


Syncopate

by rabiosareads



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Blindfolds, Body Worship, Dirty Talk, F/M, Gentle Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Praise Kink, Slow Romance, Smut, Touch-Starved, fucking in space yknow the vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:07:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27841990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabiosareads/pseuds/rabiosareads
Summary: In the vacancy of space, you two find yourselves closer than ever.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Reader, Din Djarin/You, The Mandalorian & You, The Mandalorian/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 63





	Syncopate

**Author's Note:**

> Originally taken and extended from a request on my tumblr under the same name!!

Mando had always wondered what your skin would feel like. He was too afraid to slip off his gloves just yet, as if he was almost…  _ ashamed  _ of the whole situation. As if he hadn’t paid enough penance to get the privilege to indulge in the caresses that you were preening for, throaty whines escaping pathetically from your withering frame, the same ones he had imagined nights ago. 

And you had thought about it, too, how you were blanketed in shame over it. You’ve dreamt about it, night after night after  _ night, _ choked moans catching in your lungs to collect cobwebs of desire while your hand worked furiously to release the day’s tension. You wondered how it got to be this way, you a mess of bubbling words and pent up frustration, melting into his armour. You wanted him to take a piece of you, palpable and thick, mold yourself into the clothed gaps of his chest so he can remember how  _ good  _ you felt against him.

You arrived on his lap in snapshots moments ago, glimpses of your languid and syrupy movements dragging and skipping along his beskar clad thighs still lagging behind his eyes. The warmth of your body pressed against his frigid posture, his hands clutching at the sides of his seat in self control. Your thighs shook at the contrast of the cold steel versus your heated skin, almost at the point of it being unbearably sweltering hot, collectively melting your thoughts to drip hot liquid down your throat.

So you both sat there for a few minutes, in the humming stillness of space, the whipping blue white lights casting a holy glow on your erect spine. You leaned down to steady yourself against his chest, curling forward when his hands twitched to reach down into your lap, resting your hands on the curve of his pauldron.

Although the metal provided relief to your heated skin, you needed more warmth to compare to the moment, something more… human. Something to ground you while you feel yourself come undone at the seams like a flapping puppet. You tilt your head and he follows your movement like a reflection, eliciting a small giggle from you.

“What?” he rasped along his modulated whisper, shivering when your hips pressed down. He gripped your thighs in response. 

“Nothing. This is nice.”

“Yes.”

You wanted to take the risk of peeling his glove off, to reveal something that you could hold onto until the next act of dangerous intent. During a rush of a shootout you saw his wrist and the plump muscle of his palm, and you’ve been chasing that high since. Just from that flash of flesh you were convinced that the tanned skin would be so sweet and warm against your tongue. Maker, if he just allowed himself to  _ let go  _ for one moment. 

You gulped when you dragged your right hand down his pauldron, skipping at the curve of his elbow and gripping his vambrace. You felt Mando tense underneath you and you cooed a comforting sound back to him, balancing yourself between the blistering arousal of the tensive moment and childish excitement.

You rested your palm on top of his leathered hand, lacing your fingers with his. His hand dwarfed yours and your heart skipped so hard in your chest that it fucking  _ hurt  _ at the thought of the hand you’re holding has killed, has held blasters and throats and blood in them, calloused and bruised from decades of unfiltered hunting.

Yet it shook in your embrace.

A power you could get drunk off of.

“Is this okay?” you asked, taking your other hand to pinch the tip of his middle finger while the other hand gripped his wrist.

Mando hesitated at first but he was on the same level of hell that you’re on, mind blurred and erased at the edge of desire and reckless starvation. “Yes.”

You tugged at each finger, starting from the middle finger and ending at his thumb, revealing his twitching hand. You watched his helmet tilt forward, hoping that he was still watching you with heavy eyes, hoping that this slicked dew that’s coating your body is comparable to his underneath all those layers.

He hissed when you brought his hands to your lips, kissing his open palm with an open, hot mouth. You wanted to drag your tongue in the rivers of his palm, taste the salt and leather and blaster smoke, to add another notch to cherish yourself to sleep, just in case this all goes south and he leaves you in the cockpit to sob at your folly. His hissing died down into a small groan, laced with longing and shameful absence of affection when you rest it against your face, motioning for him to press his warmth into yours.

“This still okay?”

“Yeah. This is okay.”

At the time you decided that this was nice, maybe even better than what could happen. Your chest pressed against his, this sliver of skin against yours. You’ve convinced yourself that this was the epitome of pleasure for yourself. You cursed yourself however when the warmth pooled in your belly, skin flushed at the thought that your pulsating blood would give away just how badly you wanted the bounty hunter.

His thumb caressed your cheek and you closed your eyes, sinking into the calloused warmth of his ministrations. His other hand trailed up your thigh and your spine shivered, stomach dipping into a jump of anticipation. He cocked his head and you followed his action again.

“Your skin…” he trailed off, the hand on your face caressing down to your shoulder. 

“My skin?” you prompted, inhaling when he squeezed your thigh.

“So soft… your body fits right into my hands.” 

Both hands were on your thighs, taking light squeezes. He watched your face with careful eyes, gauging how high you wanted him to go. He lifted his gloved hand and spread his fingers in front of your face.

“Take this one off.”

Your teeth chattered carefully in your mouth. Slowly, you opened your mouth, closing your eyes once the leather hit your tongue. You pulled off the middle finger with your teeth, then his index, waving your head back and forth to get the material off. His hand rested on your thigh and trailed up, up, up, all the way to the palpable sides of your waist. He gave you a good squeeze, his fingertips sinking into your flesh. He took his hand underneath your shirt, thumbs resting on the side of your waist.

“Is this okay?” he whispered. You shook your head in confirmation.

“Yes.”

He hummed, taking his head back. He rested the back of it on his seat, the blue white lights coating his cool steel helmet. You wondered if he was watching you too with heavy eyes, mouth peeled open and tongue heavy. He thumbed your rib cage, the tips of his fingers alongside your breasts.

“Sweet, sweet girl,” he cooed, feeling courage through his blood. “You’re so good to me. Why?”

The words coated your mouth with thick cotton, filling your blood with an unexplainable heat. Nothing could compare to the way his honeyed words crept into your brain, burrowing deep inside, just like the affection you’ve accumulated over the months for him, this mysterious walking beskar warrior, an absolute  _ menace  _ you’re allowing yourself to indulge in. And if he only knew the way you had thought about this for nights, how you swore you could taste the lingering film of gunpowder and leather on the back of your tongue, how the cool charcoal skylines illuminated your desires, maybe he can confirm your madness as well. 

You’ve watched him from behind all this time, watched the way his broad shoulders took up most of the sun and the moon beams, watched his hips switch back and forth in intimidating steps. You’ve trembled with the cantina patrons and bounties. You’ve gulped when his voice would drop a dangerous octave of threats, you’ve even curled against his wide palms when they met the small of your back, conforming to his liking, just for him to catch the hint.

His question lingered in the air on a string, swinging back and forth in your face. Why? Why what? Why are you so good to him, a dangerous man like him, why? 

If only you knew the answer. Would you be in this position if you did?

His hands slowly crept forward, rounding the sides of your breasts. His thumb grazed your hard nipple and you hissed at the contrast of rough callous and hot skin, so he paused. You looked at him with heavy eyes, your head slightly bobbing in a confirmation to continue.

His chest stuttered at the sensation of your pebbled skin. Sometimes he’d catch the smell of you underneath his mask and has chased that sensation since, wanting to confirm in his whirlwind of a mind that you taste as sweet as you smell. He licked his lips when you raised your hands, allowing him to slip off your thin tank top. Mando gaped at the sight before him, making your stifle a giggle.

“Is it as bad as you imagined it to be?” you partially teased, face hot with your shy whines.

He rapidly shushed you, his palms circling your breasts again to give a light squeeze. He observed the way the light contorts on each swell, each curve and each blossomed shiver, the frigid air of the ship encompassing your connecting flesh. Your chest leaned forward at his ministrations, your hands resting on his pauldrons.

“No, no, no,” he hushed again, one hand resting between your shoulder blades. “Better than I imagined. Better than I could ever dream of.”

You could only nod, watching his helmet lean to the side. Underneath his half lidded eyes watched your chest move up and down in staggering breaths, his mouth watering at the sight of your prickled skin.

“Can I ask you something?” he breathed. You blinked, taking your hand down his chestplate. He removed both hands from you and you almost protested like a child, until you saw a ripped piece of fabric in his hand.

“Do you always keep that on your person?” you sneered playfully. 

He chuckled, squeezing your hip. “Never know when you need it. Can I… can I trust you?”

“Of course.”

“I want… I want to kiss you. So bad. But you need to put this on for me.”

You gulped at his sudden drop in bass, thick with the same desperation that’s been building in your chest. You slowly closed your eyes and prayed that they wouldn’t snap back open in dangerous curiosity or the sudden rush of light of reality. He stalled for a moment, even considered it a mistake, but from the way your heat seeped into his lap and your lips wet in anticipation, his worries slipped from his hands and into the cloth. He made sure to tie it as tight and comfortably as possible before marveling at the freedom that he finally possessed with you. 

His hands were shaking while he slowly pulled off his helmet, the rush of stale air sneaking up to his nose. He blinked away the stars from his eyes, adjusting to the cool light basking over the two of you, his face slightly flushed.

You looked absolutely ethereal in his eyes, as if you were carved from many moons and stardust and pure sunlight, all for him to gape at your glory. The silence made you even more nervous, relying on your eyes to catch his steady breath and the dull sounds of the  _ Razor Crest.  _ Your hands itched to touch his face, to dig into the grooves of his features, to sink into the tresses of his hair. You wondered time and time again what color his eyes were, whether or not they were aged from his profession or still had that boyish gleam, whether his hair was thick with curls or silky straight strands, whether or not his skin was kissed from sun or moon.

“Can I touch your face?” you whispered, your hands sneaking up to his neck. He instinctively snapped his hands up to grab yours and you gasped at the sudden grab. You stayed still for a moment, wondering if you should forgo this, but he led the way to his face, squeezing it slightly and letting go.

You smiled to yourself at the softness of his skin contrasting the jagged stubble. You took your time to feel his cheekbones, his ears, eyebrows and the hook of his nose, stopping at the dip of his cupid’s bow. You dragged a finger around the curve, dipping in the middle where he parted, finally bouncing his bottom lip. You pinched his chin and leaned his head back, readjusting your hips on his. He hissed at your grind, his cock painfully hard on his thigh, erecting his back to meet you halfway.

You kissed him softly and without reservation, sighing into the plump pillows of his lips. He also sighed into your mouth, his greatest adoration coming to fruition, pursing them when you cradle his face with both your hands. You slipped your tongue in his mouth, shuddering once more when you tasted his mouth, sinking further into his lap.

You two stayed like this for what seemed like forever, his hands snaking up to your chest and neck. You sought out more heat, something more tangible and refined, your hands dropping to his pauldrons and then grasping his wrist.

“D-Do you want me to stop?” he whispered.

“No, I just…” you whined, your face flushed with embarrassing heat. “Maker Mando I just… I just  _ need… _ ”

His forehead landed on yours, eyes closed while he inhaled your sweet breath. “Tell me  _ mesh’la,  _ what do you need? What do you want from me?”

He wanted to tease you so badly, wanting to muse that you didn’t have a problem making your demands more vocal before this but he judged from the way you kept grinding your hips into his cock that you needed more than heavy petting. “Tell me.”

“I need you to  _ touch me,  _ Mando, p-please,” you cried softly, your clit throbbing at the rush of your confession.

“But I am,” he couldn’t hold back his teasing nature, chuckling when you threw your head back in frustration. “Talk to me, where do you want me to touch you?”

You cocked your head to the side, your neck exposing a throbbing vein, licking your lips wet. You took his right hand and led it down your sternum, to the roundness of your soft belly, looping his fingers to the first belt loop. You tugged at his wrist, wanting him to catch the hint while your words ate away at your lustful brain, but he played clueless, entertained by your shameful display.

“Here,” you sighed when his finger played with the button of your pants. 

“Here? At your pants?” he questioned, his voice dull and low. 

You rolled your eyes and took initiative, your own hands unbuttoning your pants. He stopped you, tapping your hip to stand up. He pulled your pants down, your ankles kicking off the rest of the fabric, leaving you in your soaked panties. His throat closed when you sat back down, your fingers playing with the band. 

“No, here,” your whisper was pathetically slow like dripping molasses, dragging the hell of your palm to your mound.

“Oh, here,” he mused, kissing your nose. “You want me to feel that pretty pussy of yours?”

“Mando!” you gasped, turning your head to the side when he chuckled at your shy protest. 

He took your hand and placed it back on his pauldron, running a finger over your mound. You held your breath when he dipped underneath you, swirling slowly around your wet heat, gulping when he felt the bump of your clit. You grind against the feeling, your fingers almost melting into his beskar. His finger pushed your panties to the side, his moan catching in his throat.

“You’re so wet for me, you feel so good,” he cooed, dipping two fingers in you to gather your wetness. “Are you wet for me?”

You nodded when he swirled your clit, catching it between his fingers to give a slight squeeze. His thumb rested in between your lips, fingers dancing along the nerves. He had just started but you were ready to unravel, your hips moving with the phantoms of your desperate lust, thighs shaking with nerves. He watched your brows frown and bottom lip catch between your teeth, blood rushing to the flesh, gauging if his slow speed would be enough for you.

“Talk to me,” he hummed, resting his lips on your temple. “Are you wet for me?”

“Maker yes,” you sighed deeply, rocking your hips to his rhythm. “Only for you.”

You could never have enough, from the callus of his skin and his honeyed whispers, holding back mewls in the back of your throat. It built up in your chest, breath hitched and heavy through your nostrils, the pressure breaking when he picked up speed. 

“You look so good like this,” he complimented, licking his lips. “I should touch your pussy more often. Is that what you want? For me to play with your pussy more?”

“Mando…” was all you could say until he pushed one finger in you with little to no effort. His lips crashed onto yours to eat your moans, his palm digging back into your clit. He waited until you slipped around him comfortably to insert his second finger, curling them inside of you, flexing the joints back and forth. He reached a spot in you that sparked fire in your belly, your lips ripping off of his to cry into the air. From his palm rolling on your clit to his fingers working feverishly inside of you, you were already licking at the impending doom in your pelvis and sore hips. 

“I’ll play with your pussy every day if you asked me to,” he explained, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Just to watch you look this beautiful. My sweet girl…”

“Mando I-I’m,” you stuttered, trembling when he went faster, his lips trailing down to your jawline. He kissed your shoulder blades and rested his forehead in the crook of your neck, listening to your pants, suckling on the salty skin.

“You wanna come for me?” he almost begged into you, feeling you drip down and listening intently to the delicious wetness of your cunt. 

“Yes, yes, please, please,  _ please-- _ ”

You gasp hitched in your throat when you came hard, the sensation rolling like an avalanche. You bounced in his lap, relishing in the way the electric waves rode up your spine, shaking your thighs and stomach in strong thunderstorms. Mando observed your throat’s veins protruding from your skin, the way your collarbones dipped in themselves and your hollowed moans, slowing his pace to languid strokes on your clit.

He shushed you through his teeth, sprinkling kisses along your damp forehead. “There you go, let it all out for me… There you go…”

You quivered against his chest, sinking into the cool beskar while his fingers rolled your clit even slower, gathering your slick upwards. You rolled your hips back, taking in gulps of breaths. He removed his hand, watching his two fingers glisten against the light.

“Do you want to know what I’m about to do?” he proposed, holding his fingers closer to his mouth. You whined in response. “I’m going to taste you.”

“Maker,” was all you could muster, listening intently to the sound of his tongue sticking out to wrap around his thick fingers, his mouth suckling every drop of you. He was relieved you couldn’t see his pure intoxication, the absolute madness he was reveling in from the taste of you, somehow it being the sweetest tang to have ever hit his tongue. He leaned in to kiss you, his tongue immediately mingling with yours so you can taste yourself, the same taste that had him unraveled.

Mando groaned at the sensation of your wet cunt against his clothed cock so while he deepened his kiss he rose your hips up. You stumbled awkwardly against him until the pang of beskar made its note, then his rushed breaths on your face. You stood up and parted from him, hyper aware of your bare body on full display to the galaxy, so you wrapped your arms around your torso. He sat back down in his thermal wear, pulling his band down to spring out his cock. However he paused at the sight of you. He rubbed his cock in his palm, taking the mixture of his saliva and your cum from his fingers to drag down his shaft.

“W-Why are you being shy?” he whispered, his voice rough with tension. “Come here.”

You floated to his voice, aware of the cold sheets of metal beneath your feet, reaching out with a delicate hand. You took his face in your hand and he leaned in to your touch, closing his eyes to inhale your scent once more. He began to pump himself, opening his mouth to press a wet kiss on your palm.

“D-Do you know w-what you do to me? Do you want to feel it?” 

Your confirmation was as quiet as the wind, letting him take your other hand and lowering down his chest. Your fingertips skipped on his toned body and fabric, resting at his belly button. Along your wrist you feel the base of his cock, hard as steel and throbbing with hot blood, curling your fingers to spread along the girth of it. He lightly gasped when your thumb trailed upwards to his head, a bead of precum dripping out to be gathered and spread across.

“You make me this way,” he rasped when your hand pulled down. “You’ve always made me so-so--”

Your mouth watered with the need to take him all in however your thighs stuck together with embarrassing slickness. Your knees rubbed together to relieve some of the lingering arousal in you and Mando noticed, so he removed your hand from himself, guiding you back towards his lap. His thumbs massaged your aching hips, parting your legs with his thick thigh. He guided you to lower yourself, leaving a hand on your hip and his other one to guide his cock halfway.

The anticipation made you gasp a bit too loudly when the head of his cock met your entrance, so you steadied yourself by holding his shoulders. You dug your fingernails into his arms when he ran his head through your lips, your knees shaking against his legs. You wanted to slip right around him, to wrap your warmth around his and connect, but he continued to do the same motion. You sank lower on him and cupped his face.

“Mando please,” you whined. “I  _ need  _ you inside of me, please, please…”

“I got you  _ mesh’la,  _ no need to beg.”

The delicious stretch of his cock finally spread inside your cunt, your exhale heavy and hot in his ear. Mando swore he saw stars inside the  _ Razor Crest  _ so he closed his eyes, allowing himself to unravel against you, in you, to allow himself to detach from his fear of simply  _ letting go _ . 

You rolled your hips to get used to the stretch inside of you, sighing when your clit would meet contact with pressure. You lowered your forehead on his and began to rise up, shivering when you lowered yourself back down, your ministrations slow like honey. 

You were unaware of the mewls and moans you were making, shallow and breathy, completely lost in the way he managed to slot inside of you so perfectly. He rested his hands on your hips and allowed you to take control, to continue to dig your fingernails occasionally into him, to slip curses in his lips. 

He took your hips and held you down, immediately increasing his speed. You could only slack your jaw open at his sudden speed, holding on while he pounded upwards. He hit the spot in you from your previous unravel, however this time it was met with immense pressure that the fire in your belly couldn’t harbor any longer. The sounds of your damp skin on his, your wet arousal coating his cock, your wanton gasps and his struggling breaths, filled the ship shamefully. He wanted to etch every single detail on his skin, the way your wet mouth kept spewing out his name and pleas, the sweet smell of your hair in his nose, your cunt enveloping him with no remorse, it was all part of his undoing. His stomach flexed at his impending orgasm, erecting his spine towards you.

“Look at you,” he praised, kissing your hairline. “Do you have one more for me?”

Your face sank down into the crook of his neck and your teeth scraping along the thick flesh to hold back your cries. Your back went stiff when he pressed his thumb on your clit. keeping tight circles around it. Your orgasm pounded in you, growing faster and faster in contrast with his slurred thrusts, leaving you a mess of words against his skin. 

Your cunt suddenly tightened around him and he let out a long, strained groan, his own hands gripping your waist tightly to allow you to milk him. The way you release yourself around him was relentless, much more wild than you were used to, a rush of warmth leaking out of you and running down your leg. You hiccuped another moan and slammed your lips onto his, overwhelmed with the continued pace on your already exhausted body quivering against his.

Mando sucked on your bottom lip when he came hard in you, resting a hand on your belly to feel himself protruding through the skin. He couldn’t help but cry a guttural moan into you as well, his body overstimulated with the rush of events, allowing you to pepper kisses on him once his bite loosened. You kissed up to his eyelids, around his furrowed brows and around the shell of his ear, giving him time to rut inside of you. Your bodies slurred into a rhythm of slow grinds and desperate hands finding purchase between each other.

Space was as quiet as ever. Even with your labored breaths it was still so stagnant, as if the two of you were hung on a string, swaying to the invisible music playing. Mando did not want to speak, in fear of what he could say and how it could mean, but it didn’t matter, not at that time nor never. Instead he softened inside of you, wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing you so close to his clothed skin he can feel your heartbeat through your clothes. Your eyes are heavy and you disappear into the dark envelope of space, as well as his words pacifying your mind.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written any smut in such a long time so I hope it wasn't that bad lmao
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


End file.
